“It’s the fact that it’s you that makes me embarrassed,” she admitted.
He slipped off his shirt and put his arms around her. “What do you mean?”
She caught her breath. Holy moly. “Dion, my God, look at you.”
He glanced down at himself. “What?”
“Where did all these muscles come from? And this hair?” She ran her fingers through the light scattering of brown hair across his chest. “You’re all grown up.”
“Yeah.” He cupped her breasts. “We’re not kids anymore.”
“No.” He was all man now, and she was all woman, a perfect combination. It should always be this way, hot and fiery, with desire overpowering any fears and worries. How had she thought what she had with Cody was real passion?
She reached up on her tiptoes, ran her tongue along his bottom lip, then grazed it between her teeth. “And I want you inside me,” she whispered. “Now.”
He met her gaze, his eyes blazing. Then he kissed her, hard, while he undid the buttons of his pants and slid down the zipper. He pushed them down and flicked them off with his socks, and her eyes widened at the sight of him in his boxer-briefs, his erection looking very eager for some action.
“I always guessed you’d be impressive,” she said, running a finger down him, “but, Dion, seriously, wow.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said wryly as he removed his last item of clothing. “I’m sure that comment reflects your lack of experience rather than anything remarkable on my part, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He picked up the box of condoms, ripped off the packaging impatiently and removed one of them. “Now then.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Where were we?”
Chapter Twelve
She kissed him hungrily, growing desperate to have him inside her. Her heart thundered, and as his hands moved over her and began to arouse her again, a deep longing made her ache to reach the end of this path of destiny they’d set out on so many years ago.
He turned her and walked her backward again, stopping when he reached the chair in front of the dressing table. He moved the chair out and sat, then pulled her forward to straddle him.
She sat astride him, suddenly shy, especially when she turned her head and saw their reflection in the large, oval mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair ruffled where it tumbled around her shoulders. In the mirror she watched Dion tear the foil packet and remove the condom, then roll it carefully down his erection before placing his hands on her hips.
She looked back at him, cupped his face and kissed him deeply. When she lifted her head, he groaned.
“You’re killing me,” he said gruffly. “Please, Megan. You do it—at your own pace.”
He’d chosen this position so she could lower herself onto him, she realised, to make sure she was ready.
But she wasn’t nervous any longer. She wanted him so much that finally all her nerves and worries had fled.
Keeping her eyes locked on his, she raised herself up until the tip of his erection pressed slightly into her. She let her lips brush his as she moved her hips, feeling his swollen tip slide into her slick heat. His lips curved beneath hers as she gave a few short, teasing rocks of her pelvis. And then she sank down onto him.
They both gasped. His eyes widened, blazing into hers, and even though when he’d removed his clothes she’d acknowledged how they’d both grown up, at that moment she remembered how she’d felt about him all those years ago. Yes, he’d matured and his body had grown, but deep down he was still the Dion she’d fallen for so heavily when she was a teenager, the Dion she’d been so crazy about.
An urge to pleasure him flooded, and she began to move on top of him, giving long, slow movements of her pelvis while she plunged her tongue in and out of his mouth, mirroring the movement of him inside her. He let her set the pace and played with her breasts, stroked her back and thighs, kissed her until the hunger grew inside her and her movements became more urgent.
At that point, however, he held her hips, his lips forming a smile beneath hers. “Not yet,” he murmured. And then, to her surprise, he tightened his arms about her and moved to the edge of the chair before pushing himself up.
She squealed and wrapped her legs around his waist, conscious of him still thick and hard inside her. She tightened her internal muscles experimentally, giving a triumphant grin when he groaned.
“Right,” he said determinedly. He walked over to the wall and pressed her up against it with a bump that made her gasp. Pressing close, he supported her beneath her butt with his hands, but then remained unmoving, hovering his mouth over hers.
At first she worried that he’d drop her and kept her legs tight, ankles locked behind his back. But as he continued to hold her, waiting and watching, she gradually relaxed, warmed by his intense gaze. Her thighs loosened and she softened against him, and as she did so he moved his hips, pushing even further into her.
She tipped her head back against the wall, conscious of him all the way up inside, stretching and filling her. The sensation of being impaled on him was amazing.
“Fuck,” she said vehemently.
“Yeah.” He brushed her lips with his. “That feels good.”
“Ah, Dion…”
He kissed her, but still he refused to move, obviously enjoying the sensation of being buried inside her, and she moaned and clutched her fingers in his hair, aching for fulfilment. She tried to rock her hips, but she was pinned too tightly against him for movement.
When he finally lifted his head, she gave him a desperate look. “Dion, please.”
“Okay, honey.” He lifted her off the wall and walked over to the bed. Holding her carefully, he climbed onto the mattress and lowered her onto her back across the bed, still inside her.
“Now then,” he said silkily, taking her hands in his and pinning them above her head. “I know you don’t want vanilla, but I’m going to show you that even missionary can be fantastic when it’s done right.”
“Oh,” she squeaked. This position was so different—suddenly he was in charge, and from this angle he looked so much bigger than her, all broad shoulders and muscular arms, a hundred percent male.
He held her gaze, his eyes slightly amused and very intense. “I’m going to fuck you senseless now. Get prepared.”
Holy cow. How the hell did she prepare herself for that?
Her heart raced as he moved his hips and readied himself, and then he pulled back and thrust forward firmly.
Megan gasped, but it was too late to say anything because he crushed his lips to hers, and she could only lie there as he began to pound into her energetically, pushing her a little further across the bed with every thrust.
Her fingers flexed in his, but he refused to release her, and the sensation of being completely at his mercy was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced in her life. It was like what she’d seen Cody doing to the redhead except a hundred times hotter and Dion was a thousand times sexier, and as he continued to thrust, she knew that this was real sex, not the half-hearted, even slightly cold couplings she’d had with her ex.
Pressure began to build in her abdomen again, and Dion obviously sensed it because he released her hands and pushed himself up, watching her with possessive, hungry eyes. The back of her head brushed the edge of the mattress, and as everything tightened around him and he thrust even harder, her head fell over the edge and she let the orgasm sweep over her. He lowered his head and captured her nipple in his mouth, and she swore violently as waves of pleasure rolled over her, arching her back as he sucked hard and pulled the nipple to a tight peak.
And then, just as the blissful ripples died down, Dion stilled and shuddered into her, and she ran her hands up his arms, marvelling at the hardness of his muscles as he went rigid and his hips jerked, and he gave a low, satisfied groan before lowering himself on top of her.
They lay there like that for a minute, Dion resting his forehead on her shoulder, Megan gradually opening her eyes to look upside down at the ches
t of drawers on the opposite wall. Eventually though she lifted her head and kissed his hair.
“Sorry to bother you,” she whispered, “but the blood’s kind of rushing to my head.”
He laughed and lifted up, withdrew from her and disposed of the condom, then pulled her over to the pillows and underneath the covers with him.
She curled up against him, heart still racing, and rested her chin on top of her arm as she leaned on his chest.
He surveyed her with a smile. “You okay?”
“Wow. Just…wow.”
He chuckled and ran a finger down her cheek. “You enjoyed that?”
“Dion, that was absolutely amazing.”
“I’m glad.”
“Jeez, I can’t believe I did it wrong for so long! No wonder it’s so popular if that’s what it’s like all the time.”
“It’s not like that all the time,” he said thoughtfully.
“No?”
He didn’t reply, but drew her up against his side, so she cuddled up to him and kissed his neck.
“If you plan on having any sleep tonight, you’d better start now,” he said.
She lifted her head and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Because after a performance like that, Miss Green, I am absolutely going to make the most of you while I have you, so don’t expect to sleep for more than an hour tonight before we go again.”
She gasped and pushed herself up. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely I am, so stop talking and close your eyes.” He met her gaze, serious at first, then gradually turning amused at the bewildered wonderment he must have seen in her eyes. “What?”
“Thank you.” She kissed him.
“For what?”
“For making me feel…” Emotion overwhelmed her and she bit her lip. She was about to say ‘wanted’, but the word wouldn’t come.
He seemed to understand though. “You’re welcome,” he murmured back.
She curled up against him again. “Oh, merry Christmas by the way,” she whispered.
“Merry Christmas,” he said back, and kissed her hair.
Chapter Thirteen
Christmas Present
Megan lifted Harry’s seat out of the car, locked the door and carried him across to the café. The December morning had dawned humid and warm, so it was a relief to walk into the air-conditioned café, the smell of coffee and warm muffins making her mouth water even as she walked through the door.
Dion was already there, sitting at a table with a latte, looking out of the window at the bustling town, but he turned as she approached. He stood, and her heart rate increased at the sight of him in beige cargo shorts and one of the new tight-fitting All Blacks rugby tops that showed off the sculpted muscles of his torso. Sean had told her Dion had asked to go shopping to Whangarei the day before, the nearest city an hour away, and he’d bought some more casual clothing. They suited him—he looked younger, a little less awkward than he had the moment he’d walked into Sean’s house, dressed like an Italian businessman on holiday.
She stomped on her feelings, though, conscious of the fact that he wasn’t smiling, his eyes still hard. That bird’s long flown, she told herself firmly. She had to take this opportunity to repair the damage Sean had done with his surprise introduction, nothing more.
It had been three days since Dion had landed, three long days during which she’d spoken to Gaby several times, who’d told her that Dion had been quiet and had done little more than go fishing with Sean and sit on the deck watching the bay. Megan had begun to fear he’d refuse to talk to her, but that morning he’d rung to ask whether she’d meet him in town for a coffee. Neutral ground, she thought. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
She gave him a brief smile, took the chair opposite him and placed Harry in his seat on the floor.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she said.
His face softened at that. He stirred his latte slowly, watching the spoon draw patterns in the foam on the top. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long. I needed a bit of time.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
A waitress came up, and Megan ordered a fruit juice and a muffin, and Dion ordered a muffin too. When the waitress walked away, Dion said, “I can’t believe you’re ordering fruit juice. This coffee is fantastic.”
“I’m still breastfeeding,” she said awkwardly. “Unfortunately I’m off caffeine for another few months.”
“Oh, of course.” The shutters came down over his face again. His gaze slid briefly to the baby lying in his seat swatting occasionally at the mobile above his head, and then his eyes moved back to her.
She cleared her throat. “So you’ve been fishing, I understand. Catch anything good?”
“A few snapper. It’s been a long while since I’ve been out on a boat. Mostly I lay on the roof and dozed. Fucking jet lag.” His lips twisted wryly.
She smiled. His face had caught the sun, the red skin already turning brown. She noticed that his hair was ruffled too, not slicked back like it had been when he arrived.
“You look more like Kiwi Dion now,” she teased.
He gave a small smile and went back to stirring his coffee.
She looked out of the window for a while. There were only three days to go until Christmas Day, and the town heaved with shoppers. For a moment she wondered whether she should buy him something. He would be there on Christmas Day, after all. But what the hell should she get the father of her child who she hadn’t seen for a whole year?
Harry murmured at her feet, and she looked down and rocked his seat for a moment, passing him a teething ring. He stuck it in his mouth and chewed. His first tooth would probably appear soon, her mother had said. She’d told Megan that Harry might get grumpy while teething, but so far the good-natured baby had shown no sign of irritability.
A wave of love for him swept over her. Her parents had been great, and Sean and Gaby had helped out an awful lot, but most of the time it had just been her and Harry, especially at night, sitting quietly in the chair in her bedroom at two a.m. half dozing as she fed him. She knew she’d been lucky—they’d bonded immediately, and he was a good baby, only crying when hungry or needing changing, sleeping well, basically content. He’d fulfilled a need in her she hadn’t even realised was there.
She raised her eyes in time to see Dion watching them. His gaze met hers briefly before he looked down and sipped his coffee, and sadness spread through her. How could she ever mend this broken relationship? How could she convince Dion that his son was not an enemy but someone who would return his love threefold, should he choose to give it?
Chapter Fourteen
Dion looked out of the window for a while. He still couldn’t get his head around the hot Christmas thing. Sean had said the town would be packed with shoppers, but it was hardly Oxford Street. Couples and kids ambled by, all dressed in shorts and T-shirts, and nobody seemed stressed like they tended to be in England. His sister-in-law was a nightmare at this time of year, endlessly drawing up menus, complaining that nobody would help her and then complaining when they did, irate because ordered presents hadn’t arrived, harassed because she insisted on making her own cake and pudding and mince pies whilst also working full time and bringing up two small children.
Here, the shops played carols and sold cards with snow and robins, but all the doors were open and the Santa who stood on the corner singing with a bunch of kids was dressed in a vest, shorts and wellies—or gumboots as they called them here. He and Sean had left Gaby in the house that morning singing away as she wrapped the kids’ presents. She’d told him Christmas dinner would to be a barbecue around the pool at Sean and Megan’s parents’ house. Barbecue. For Christmas Day! He wanted to go just to experience it once again. But he didn’t know whether he’d be welcome at Megan’s father’s home.
He looked across at her. She was smiling at the baby again, her face filled with such gentle affection it brought a lump to his throat. He was pleased for the baby
that she obviously loved it so much. That, at least, was something.
She glanced up then and he looked away, embarrassed she’d caught him watching her. He paid attention to his muffin, a white chocolate and raspberry creation that he’d worried might be a bit dry but turned out to be soft and moist inside.
“So tell me about the company,” Megan said.
He looked up. She was leaning back in her chair, watching him as she rocked the baby with her foot.
He broke the muffin into quarters and ate one. “Not much to say.”
“Really?” For the first time she looked impatient. “Last time I saw you, you were about to close this huge deal and you thought you were next in line to be CEO. Sean said you told him the board gave it to someone else.”
He sat back and glared at her. He’d told Sean to keep that to himself, not really wanting to discuss it with anyone. “Your fucking brother.”
“Tell me about it. Sibling from hell.” She took a swig of her fruit juice, then tipped her head at him. Her eyes held sympathy, not accusation. “So what happened?”
He looked out the window. A fantail sat on the palm tree that arched over the courtyard outside. The bird flew onto the flagstones and hopped into the café. Dion frowned. When he was young, his mother had told him that if a fantail came indoors it foretold a death in the family. The waitress fluttered her apron at the bird though, and it flew away.
He hadn’t spoken about what had happened to anyone in detail. Suddenly the urge to talk overpowered him. “I closed the deal in Prague.” He finished off his coffee. “I went back to the UK a hero. Everyone was singing my praises. It was the biggest advancement the company had made in years.”
Depression settled over him like the humid air outside. “My father was due to retire in the New Year, but January came and went, then February, then March. He kept making excuses. Things to tidy up before he went. But I carried on. I brought in a new safety manager and worked with him to implement safety standards to a level we’d never seen before. I hired an operations manager, and we changed the shift system and improved working conditions. With a new personnel manager we restructured pay scales and introduced a whole new electronic system for tracking sick leave and holiday pay that saved the company thousands.”
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